


warmth

by Al_D_Baran



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Consensual Somnophilia, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Domestic, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Married Couple, Master/Servant, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Car, Sexual Fantasy, Somnophilia, Trans Keith (Voltron), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Watersports, Watersports mentions, legit thought this up as i listened to master and servants from tears for fears so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: When Shiro wraps his arms around his middle, Keith thinks of it as… very,very closecuddling.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> this is like the first thing i wrote in weeks and didn't hate right away so excuse me being rusty.

Warm.

Too warm.

Keith hears the fuzzy high-pitched notes of KISS, as playing if from the neighbours’ garage. There’s something warm under him, something moving between his legs… Something big, callused brushes on his clit. He grunts, pushing back into the sensation, chasing the tingles the roughness brings him. His ass left a wet, moist mark under him. Keith can tell his pussy is wet – belatedly, his mind clicks that _someone’s_ playing with his folds.

“Hello there, sleeping beauty,” Shiro’s voice sounds amused, his fingers dip inside of him as his metal hand keeps the Longhorn on the lane, speed managed by the cruise control. There’s a classic rock station playing.

_Tonight, I wanna see in your eyes_

_Feel the magic_

“Fuck,” Keith moans, reaching blindly for the heated seats button on the console. It’s too much.

It’s so much. Keith feels like he’ll suffocate in Shiro’s big, warm hoodie. He feels throbbing down there – Shiro must have been at it for a while. Keith isn’t sure if he came before. If he did, it’s probably what woke him up.

It’s…

_There's something that drives me wild_

_And tonight we're gonna make it all come true_

It’s something they started doing a while ago. The conversation topic came that they both had a liking for being woken up with mouths and fingers.

Keith had been ashamed to admit that he would _love_ for his husband to take him as he slept, not even waking him up, just taking what he needed. _Using him_, Keith said, expecting Shiro to scold him for the unsavoriness of the things that he fantasized about when they were apart, only to be met with absolute willingness. Absolute understanding.

Keith bites his lower lip, pushing against Shiro’s hand.

“How – how long?”

“We still got four hours left before we get to our hotel, babe,” Shiro says nonchalantly, as if he’s not fingering him open, as if he doesn’t let go of the wheel to rub at his clothed cock.

“_Shiro_,” Keith groans, joining the fingers on his clit, licking his lips as he paws at the man’s pants. “Your fingers – I mean… how long have you been – _oh!_”

Shiro brushes against his most sensitive areas with a crooked smile.

The asshole.

“Oh, that? Since about the last exit we took. About a couple miles ago.” Shiro’s fingers leave him to pull his pants to his knees. Keith sobs at the loss, kicking his pants and shoes and socks off hurriedly, grabbing Shiro’s wrist to put him back where he was, giving the Apple Car Play a look.

No wonder he was so desperate. Shiro’s been doing this for a while.

And he’s acting like it doesn’t even affect him… Keith can tell he’s painfully hard in his dress pants, rubbing him with a needy whine.

“Babe,” Shiro scolds him gently, somehow managing to keep a marble-like composure. “I’m driving right now.”

“Fuck off with that,” Keith counters with a squeeze to his husband’s covered cock. Shiro’s sitting far away enough for him to slide in easily, as if he’s planned everything. Sometimes, Keith feels like he could divorce him on the spot for Shiro’s little schemes. So that’s why he’s sitting so far away. So that’s why Shiro insisted they drive there during the night, insisting there would be less traffic and it would be faster and thus, they could take a day before the business part of his trip would start.

Really, it’s infuriating.

But _dick_.

Yes, _dick_.

It’s good dick. Big, nice, thick. If not for love, that’s why he’ll stay with Shiro. As if he wasn’t head over heels with him, even when Shiro seems to have everything planned for everything he wants to fall right into his grasp.

But his dick…

Keith really wants it inside of him. It isn’t hard to pop Shiro’s belt buckle with one hand as he throws off his own seat belt, pulling Shiro’s pants down. His cock springs up, smacking against his shirt, completely stiff.

No underwear.

He really _did_ plan this.

Keith will half-heartedly sulk about it later because he’s sopping wet and fucking _throbbing_, and he _knows_ Shiro has edged him long enough that he won’t need much to get a nice orgasm. Something to lull him back to sleep, enough so that he won’t wake up when his doting husband will carry him to their rented nest for the week.

Shiro swerves a bit to the right when Keith climbs on him, letting out a pitiful little sigh once Keith sinks on him. He feels his heartbeat through his cock, filling him perfectly until his cunt lips kiss the coarse hair of his pubis. Finally. _Finally_.

Shiro’s flesh hands grips his hip to keep him still.

Keith tries to fight his hold, to struggle – Shiro only wraps his arm around his waist, kissing along his neck, keeping his eyes on the road ahead of them.

“Shiro,” Keith whines again, frantic as he tries to fight his impossibly strong husband to no avail. Shiro is a mountain of muscles who can move him around just as he pleases. “Shiro… stop it – I need it…”

“I’m driving, baby.”

His voice is shaky. He’s just as on edge as he is, about to come and still playing with him. Shiro moves his arm as Keith rolls his hips. Shiro knows him too much, reading him like an open book. Each attempts are met with one move to keep him still, cunt stretched deliciously around Shiro’s thick shaft yet desperately still.

“Shiro, Shiro – please… I need it, need you…”

He hears him swallow. His cock twitches. Keith _swears_ he can feel a spurt of pre-come smearing inside his pussy, feeling every little movement down there. He needs to come.

He begs, “Takashi – please…”

And Shiro can only oblige, “There’s a town next exit, alright? We’ll find a place. Okay, babe? Be patient.”

“Too long…” Keith sniffles.

Shiro squeezes his hip, “I know you can do it, sweetheart. Just be patient.”

Patience _really_ isn’t his forte. But when he looks out the windshield, Keith sees the green sign of the exit. He relaxes, knees sliding around Shiro’s lap. His man releases his hold, rubbing a hand up and down his back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It doesn’t stop the whiny noises coming from Keith but at least, he’s obediently sitting on his cock.

_And I can't get enough of you, baby_

_Can you get enough of me?_

A mile passes without them saying or doing anything.

Keith admits this is nice.

The stretch eases the need, putting it on the backseat of his mind, at least when he’s breathing in the smell of his husband’s cologne. He feels and hears the beat of Shiro’s heart against him. When he wraps his arms around his middle, Keith thinks of it as… very, _very close_ cuddling. With Shiro’s cock in his pussy, the paradoxically innocent way Shiro rubs his ass and left thigh.

He could fall asleep there, Keith decides, head laid on Shiro’s shoulder, even more when Shiro pulls a blanket to cover his ass. As if he would be cold. This shouldn’t be so domestic, so gentle. But it is, even when Shiro is spreading him open, even when the thought of the man’s cock inside of him makes his nipples harden, his pussy wet even more. His toes wiggle as he moves to get comfortable, sensitive inner lips feeling Shiro’s skin and coarse pubes against his labia.

“You feel so good, baby,” Shiro says, breaking the daze he fell into.

As if on cue, his body remember there’s a cock inside him. Opening him wide with its girth. His heart gives a squeeze, his cunt follows with a thrum of excitement.

“So warm… so soft inside… could stay inside you forever.” Keith starts whining again. Shiro shushes him, “Be patient, baby. Almost there. I’ll pull over soon, okay?”

“Shiro…”

He kisses him, a silent praise that Keith wants to have earned. He’s boiling again, as if he never had a lull just minutes before. He slides his hand between them again, rolling his clit between two fingers to try to ease the ache.

“S’like you were made for me,” Shiro murmurs in his ear.

Keith moans at the sound of the blinker. Soon. _Soon_.

“Yeah,” Keith answers, pulling away from Shiro’s neck, eyes misty with lust. “Made to be fucked by your cock…”

Shiro’s throat bobs as he pulls in a deserted parking lot.

It’s a mall, closed for the night. The spot Shiro picks of them is dark, far away from the streetlamps.

As soon as Keith knows the truck is in park, he grabs the lever to pull the seat back, putting his whole weight on it to tip it. Shiro makes a noise but Keith doesn’t leave him any time to talk, using the headrest as leverage to start rolling his hips up and down.

“Shiro – don’t talk, I – I need it, just…”

Keith doesn’t know how he would become with Shiro’s dirty words. They could stay there until their business here was over.

_Made for his cock._

Yeah, he is. Keith knows it. Shiro feels _perfect_ inside of him, like the only key to open a lock. He feels Shiro’s head slam into his cervix, hard, fast, good. Shiro’s being noisy, babbling under him but Keith can’t listen to him now. Shiro’s hands move to help him rise and fall and he places his own on them.

He’s too warm – Keith pulls his hoodie away, throwing it on the backseat. Shiro uses the occasion to pull his tank top up, wasting no time to start playing with his tits. They’re so tiny they barely fit in the man’s big hands but Shiro says they’re just his type and he love them. They’re part of Keith, after all. And he spends his time fondling them as soon as he has the occasion.

It doesn’t take too long for Keith to get what he wants. He come to the peak of a guitar solo behind him – he feels debauched and hot in that instant, knees feeling the burn of the leather, winded as his cunt spasms to milk Shiro’s own orgasm. On cue, his lover picks up where he left, grabbing his hips tight again to made him ride through his pleasure.

“Fuck, babe,” he says, seconds before he comes himself, spilling inside of him with a deep sigh. He slumps on the seat, covering his eyes with his elbow, catching his breath as Keith does the same above him.

They stay like this for a bit. Keith lets Shiro mouth at his neck, noticing how his hands are still holding him flush to his body, with his spent cock snug inside of him. Keith think nothing of it, especially not when Shiro wraps the blanket around him again. He’s exhausted from coming so hard, thinks again of how this is… extra-closed, extra-snug cuddling.

“Let’s stay like this a little bit, hm?” Shiro sounds… hopeful?

Keith can’t refuse him. He nods with a little kiss. “Anything you want. Big dumdum,” the young man concedes, curling into his side with a yawn. “Wake me up when we’re there,” Keith mumbles, feeling his eyes slip closed against his will.

Keith wakes up later to Shiro’s mouth against his cunt, his tongue going deep inside. There’s another classic rock song on the radio accompanying the drumming of his heart.

_Babe, it wasn't easy to leave you alone_

_It's getting harder each time that I go_

“Shhh,” Shiro says when he realises he’s awake, sliding his hand in his. “You good?”

Keith nods, numbly, sliding his fingers between his husband’s. He’s _better_ than good, especially with Shiro’s careful tongue cleaning the come out of him. His tongue slides in, out, his lips pursue around his clit… some get rocked to sleep, others prefer to get eaten out to sleep, Keith thinks with a tired giggle.

_There's no one like you_

_I can't wait for the nights with you_

_I imagine the things we'll do_

_I just want to be loved by you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these lads are weird.  
kudos if you care, comment if you dare.


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's more of this wild shit.

Now that he thinks about it, Keith realises he might _actually be_ as oblivious as Lance always assures him he is.

He hates to have to admit it. But sometimes, that asshole can have good points.

When he wakes up as Shiro rises to get into the shower at the asscrack of dawn, Keith lays awake, staring at his reflection on the tacky mirror on the ceiling of their suite. Maybe the girl at the reception thought of him as a cheap hooker Shiro had taken in for the week.

After all, his husband’s hair prematurely whitened and their age gap is visible, even if Shiro’s snow-coloured locks do make it seem even worse. And Keith knows he has a baby face – it’s not uncommon for people to mistake Shiro for his _dad_.

Which… well, isn’t the worst, actually. He recalls the couple times he played along, knowing just how the word _daddy_ affected his husband. Faking the nubile young son clinging to his father’s arm was always fun and so was getting dragged to a public restroom cubicle with Shiro’s big hand muffling his sounds, yoga pants clinging to his thighs as Shiro fucked him hard.

_Made for his cock._

God, is this something Shiro says that often? Keith should be embarrassed at how well it still works on him. He feels like he _is_, in a way – Shiro’s the only man he ever let bang him and he intends on it staying this way. If he isn’t made for Shiro’s cock, at the very least, they’re made for each other.

Or perfectly suited, tailored for the other.

_Could stay inside you forever._

Fuck.

Keith remembers last night’s slightly odd tone to their lovemaking. In a flash, he imagines Shiro picking him up to bring him to bed, not even waking him as he checks in.

Shiro carries him like a child, he pictures, legs limp around his waist, his hand under his ass. The tiny tissue booty shorts he’s wearing barely cover his ass. Keith slides them to the side, just like they must have been, turning away from his own gaze above the bed, as if ashamed to meet his own truth.

He fantasises of Shiro’s steel-like composure as he’d them in, as if his cock wouldn’t be deep inside his husband. Maybe the clerk would notice, in fact. Maybe that’s why they got this tacky, 80’s porno-style nuptial suite.

“Good morning, baby,” Shiro yawns, startling Keith as he walks out the bathroom, a towel hanging off his hips.

“He-hey,” he croaks out, wrenching his hand away, as if he’s been doing something wrong.

“Slept well?”

_Right_. He got distracted in his own thoughts, but the outline of Shiro’s dick in that flimsy hotel room towel reminds him of what he’s been thinking.

_Let’s stay like this a little bit, hm?_

Shiro… really seems to like having his cock inside of him.

Not even to fuck.

Just. Being inside of him, hips flush together, bodies join both obscenely and beautifully. He loves just feeling him around him, to wrap him in his arms, his cock snug inside his pussy. Before they start, once they’re done…

Extra-close, extra-snug cuddling.

It seems obvious now he noticed it, to think back to all these times that Shiro insisted to stay inside, asked to fall asleep with his flaccid cock inside of him. Shiro is always so composed, collected. Maybe it’s because of how hard it should be to divide his attention between fucking his husband and not killing them by swerving off the road, but it showed more yesterday.

Keith recalls, distantly, when they were first comfortable as a couple, that Shiro asked him if he wanted to watch a movie, laying on top of him, his cock inside of him.

“We could just… chill?” Shiro had asked, looking nearly vulnerable, bearing the weight of being so _open_ about something he must have thought so odd. “Like, just. You know.”

“Chill?” Keith had said with a laugh, not understanding Shiro’s dismissive proposition. He had merely been amused at what he thought was Shiro trying to speak like a cool kid. “You want to Netflix and Chill?”

“But… really chill?” Shiro tried, hopefully.

Keith feels stupid about his past self. He rode Shiro that day, for the first half-hour of that movie – he doesn’t even remember its name – before dismissing Shiro’s shy demand for him to stay there.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he’d said, an eyebrow lifted, letting Shiro’s spent cock slip out as he slid between his arm and chest, promptly falling asleep for the rest of the movie.

He didn’t understand then but now… it seems obvious. All the weird little things about Shiro’s insistence to keep his dick inside of him, the way Shiro reacted to his teasing… Shiro really, _really _likes being inside of him. Maybe he too, really likes it. Very close, very intimate cuddling. It makes sense – Shiro loves touching him, caressing him, petting his hair. Maybe this is just an extension of this domestic affection, Shiro’s need to close the distance between them.

He must have made him feel so odd, Keith realises. Shiro had been too cryptic for him to understand but to always see it fly over his head? No wonder that Shiro never had the courage to ask him about it.

“Keith? Do you want coffee?”

Shiro’s voice pulls him out of his reflexions. Keith looks at him without understanding the question for a few instants too much enough for Shiro to cock his head to the side.

“Keith?”

“Uh… ye-yeah,” he manages, turning to the side to hide. He wants to talk to Shiro about it. Wants to ask him about this… _kink_, wants to know what Shiro enjoys so much about it. Keith knows the intimacy of it is enough to make him grow wet, the blankets leaving him too warm.

He can’t think of anything.

Is there really a good way to say it? That he sees through Shiro’s attempts at hiding his fetish? It sounds like it would be painful, somehow. To know he wasn’t so good at dissimulating it, after all.

Brutal honesty sounds like the only way.

And, well – if he’s wrong? Keith knows Shiro will accept any oddity coming from him. So whatever happens… they may end up cuddling very, very intimately regardless of the outcome of their conversation.

“Shiro,” he says, throwing the blankets off him, standing up to meet his man, sitting at the kitchenette area of the suite in a pair of boxers, leaving no mystery of the size of his cock.

“Baby?” Shiro asks, turning to pull him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

It’s so gentle. It’s exactly like at home, even if their home for the week is a luxurious but dated hotel room. With the smell of coffee wafting off the carafe, the sleepy way they hug… it smells, feels like home. Keith feels comfortable, yet his heart pounds in his chest, so hard Shiro must feel it hitting his ribs each time it tries to jump out his ribcage.

This shouldn’t be so stressful and yet… Keith bites his lips, mind still replaying his daydream of their check-in. Perhaps… he just needs to break the ice, bolster his courage to find his voice. Careful, he brings Shiro’s hand to his crotch, pulling the tiny gym shorts to the side to uncover his pussy, manoeuvring Shiro’s still hand to push his ring and middle fingers inside of him. His pinky and index slide in-between his inner and outer labias, leaving no folds untouched, unfilled.

“No – don’t move,” Keith nearly begs when Shiro’s hand jerks, expecting his lover to want a nice, quick orgasm to start the day. “I… I wanna feel your hand there.”

The coffee machine tings this instant, prompting Keith to squeeze his man’s forearm. It takes Shiro only seconds to regain composure, turning to pour them both a cup, taking his black and adding a few cups of creamer to Keith’s, just how he likes it. How can he do it? Keith feels the banality of the moment only makes him more frantic, leaning his head against Shiro’s shoulder, accepting the handle of the coffee cup blindly, focusing on the feeling of Shiro’s fingers inside of him.

Shiro’s gripping his cup, Keith sees trough his lashes. He won’t show it but this is affecting him, he loves it.

“You never told me about this,” Keith tries, breathless even when he tries to have the same Olympian calm as his husband. “That kink – just, being inside me. Not fucking just… being inside, you know?”

Shiro swallows, placing his drink on the countertop in front of them. “I, well…” Shiro stutters, trying not to breathe so loudly, to not show his arousal or his panic at being found. Keith peppers kisses across is collarbone, placing his hand over the one inside of him, innocently hugging the man’s arm, tits embracing his bulging bicep.

“I like it,” Keith says huskily, walking along a delicious edge between pleasure and comfort. Keith takes the most deliberate gulp of coffee he’s ever had, acting as if _nothing odd_ is happening, as if Shiro’s fingers aren’t getting obscenely soaked with his pussy juices. He places the cup next to Shiro’s, smiling sweetly.

“Baby,” Shiro can only croak out, pulling him closer, clinging to him.

Keith feels the shiver of power, of being in control. He’s got Shiro’s fingers in him and the man wrapped around his fingers in that instant. He likes it. Likes the way such a small thing affects him so much. “It’s nice,” he says, listening to the way Shiro breathes, excited and febrile, as if he can’t believe it’s happening, that his fetish is accepted, returned.

“Feels so close to you like this.” Shiro rocks him slowly, tenderly. This is the intimacy Keith felt before, that addicting proximity. It’s something he’s always felt during sex but like this, without the exhilaration of fucking, Keith can truly savour it. It’s like somehow, as soon as he would pull out his fingers, Shiro would be too far away from him. Like they’d be oceans, frontiers apart, miles between them.

Keith agrees with a hum.

Shiro doesn’t have any business meeting planned before tomorrow. It’s their rest day, before three more of meetings after meetings, then the four following days will be holidays, just for them. There’s no hurry to move at all, staying in comfortable silence, embraced tightly.

Keith takes a sip of now cold caffeine before he speaks again, curious, “Is there… something you like about this? More than… being close?”

Shiro shrugs. It takes a moment more for him to answer, hesitantly confessing, “Well… I have an… elaborate fantasy? But – it’s, it’s pretty weird.”

Keith laughs at that, “Shiro. We do _really_ weird things each time we fuck.”

What kind of normal people wanted to get banged in their sleep, wake up with come frothing out of them, aware and _getting off_ on the idea of having been used in their sleep? Who would, in their right mind, be turned on by calling their partner _daddy_?

“Alright,” Shiro concedes, still nervous, letting out a breath, a shaky laugh. “Well, I… I usually think about this when I’m on business trips without you. And um… I might…”

“It’s really hot that you jerk off thinking about me when we’re not together,” Keith blurts out tit-for-tat, enjoying Shiro’s startled reaction. “I do that too. A lot.” And Shiro doesn’t even need to be away from home. Just being off at work during the day is enough. “Just – finger myself, fuck myself with toys–“

“Keith –“

“Okay, okay. Please go on?”

Shiro leans into the counter behind them. Keith adjusts his grip on his wrist, trying to find the most comfortable position. The heel of Shiro’s palm rests on his clit, completely covering and filling him.

“I think about being… a king,” Shiro tells, looking terribly ashamed as he carries on. “And you… I… I own you.”

Shiro starts rubbing his fingertips inside of him, knowing just where to touch for Keith’s knees to buck a little. He lets him, imagining the scene. Shiro, regal and beautiful, sitting on a polished black marble throne. And there he is, curled against his lap, covered in jewels fit for a King’s possession. Someone else might have been offended but Keith loves being _Shiro’s_ and would have slammed the door right on the spot had it been another man.

“You own me,” Keith says matter-of-factly, rocking into the opened hand, shivering at the squelching noises. He’s disgustingly wet, thighs moist and slick.

It’s just the truth.

“And your… your purpose…” Shiro mouths at his neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise right there. His cock pushes against his hip. Keith’s mouth falls open from the lazy fingering, languidly fucking himself on his husband’s fingers.

“My purpose,” he repeats.

“Your purpose is to – keep my cock warm.” Shiro’s voice grows assured when Keith moans at the confession. His purpose… keeping Shiro warm with his pussy. He sees himself then, happily curled on his Majesty’s lap, split wide open on his cock. Shiro’s eating, writing reports, signing treaties and laws.

“I was made for that,” Keith declares fervently. “Made for keeping Master’s cock warm.”

Keith notices the way Shiro’s eyes close for a second, then two, then three before opening again, fingers pressing to his g-spot.

“You were,” Shiro assures him. “I think about hearing serfs’ complaints while I’m inside you. You keeping me warm at night… just… always inside you.”

_So warm… so soft inside… could stay inside you forever._

It doesn’t make sense, Keith thinks. There’s no way he could always be inside of him, but Keith rides his lover’s hand with the thought in mind. “Master,” he pants, fucking himself harder, knowing what mind-numbing pleasure it would be to be always on his Majesty’s cock. Maybe he would have been trained to come just from the constant penetration, the constant stretch, Keith’s lustful mind supplies helpfully, adding to the fantasy.

There’s something about being seen by every general, every feudal lord, every servants, opened on the King’s shaft for all to see, yet untouchable, precious and off-limits to anyone else. Keith isn’t sure whether or not it’s socially acceptable or if it’s a scandalous whim on the King’s part. If his Majesty needs to leave and leave him empty, Keith knows he’s desperate, gaping and needy. Does his Majesty come back to his desperate Pet later or is he merciful enough to leave his Pet a toy to ease the pain of parting?

Perhaps it depends on his moods.

Keith loves both options.

It’s impossible to always stay together. Shouldn’t his pussy eventually dry out? It can’t. Having his King inside should always be enough to leave his body drooling in need, the void his cock making him obscenely soaked in anticipation for his purpose to resume.

Surely, sometimes his Majesty needs to piss, too – Keith lets out a startled noise at the very thought, clenching hard around Shiro. No, no… he pushes the thought away, holding onto his lover’s body not to fall over just from _thinking_ about it.

But he can picture it, even when he valiantly tries not to.

Just the thought is enough to drive him over the edge, legs becoming jelly from his orgasm. Shiro keeps him up with ease, groaning in want when Keith’s cunt squeezes around his fingers.

Stupid porno plots are always ridiculously potent. The dumber the better, Keith thinks with a blissful, silly giggle as he recalls how idiotic their roleplays seem to be. Something about daddy needing to take his temperature with his cock to make sure his baby wasn’t running a fever, something else about a math professor not wanting to raise his grade even if his student was _reaaaaallyyyyyy_ devoted to do anything to pass.

Keith feels Shiro’s cock twitching between them, still hard and thick, needy. Keith makes a noise of sympathy, reaching to take him in hand before he hesitates and decides he has a better idea.

“Come on, my King,” Keith demands in a soft, servile voice. “Wouldn’t want you to be cold.”

Shiro squeezes him on reflex, smiling as he obeys, watching him with burning hot silver eyes. “So dutiful,” he praises, running his fingers in Keith’s long locks, watching him with such intensity that Keith feels a tired pull in his loins.

Shiro’s eyes never leave him when Keith walks backward to the dining table, guiding his lover with his fingers still pressed deep inside of him. With the oversensitiveness that follows coitus, Keith swears he can feel any imperceptible twitch and spasm. The seats of the two-chairs table are wide, mellow armchairs.

When Shiro sits, Keith notices he’s brought his coffee cup. There’s a newspaper on the table, probably left there by room service.

Keith shivers when Shiro’s fingers leave him, kicking off his gym shorts and pulling the shirt he wore to bed over his head. The only thing missing would be Shiro in a proper, impeccable suit, tie perfectly knotted. It doesn’t make the sensation of Shiro entering him any less perfect, leaving Keith a purring mess once he feels the tip of Shiro’s glans kiss his cervix.

The orgasm he’s had minutes ago makes him walk a thin line between pleasure and too much, if only for a few minutes. It subsides once Shiro pulls him to his chest, head on his shoulder, humming along to the tune of _Still loving you_ as he takes a sip.

Keith wraps his leg around Shiro’s hips, his arms around his ribs. Shiro opens his journal, kissing the top of his head.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Shiro tells him, wetting his fingers to turn the pages, idly reading uninteresting news.

Keith loves how they’ve debauched even the most innocent picture of domesticity. Spouses in their lazy mornings, drinking coffee, catching up on the news, one dutiful husband making sure his lover’s cock stays snug and warm inside of him.

“Mhmh. Perfect.”

_Made for this._

Keith could keep Shiro’s cock inside him forever, he thinks. So big, so thick inside of him. He loves the reassuring weight of it, of feeling him in his deepest, most intimate, most sensitive parts. He doesn’t even want to move, doesn’t even _want_ to fuck himself on Shiro’s dick like he usually would be desperate to.

He’s content, happy.

It’s perfect – after all, this is his purpose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> netflix and chill on the menu next time, lads. but like, really chill.  
i heard through the grapevine that the blunt tone of my previous comment bait was a bit off-putting for some so... kudos if you care, comment if you dare.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on twitter @dr_slurmp


End file.
